


New Possibilities

by hobgoblin123



Category: Coldfire Trilogy - C. S. Friedman
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Painplay, Multiple Orgasms, Slash, sex with a vampire, vibrating butt plug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 02:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7148471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobgoblin123/pseuds/hobgoblin123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After rescuing Tarrant from his personal hell, Damien needs to reassess the nature of their relationship. Set in Karril's storage cellar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Possibilities

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the Coldfire Trilogy, and no profit whatsoever is intended.
> 
> A/N 1: This story was also posted on ffnet a few hours ago.
> 
> A/N 2: As I've already pointed out on ffnet, I'm well aware that I've used several of the topics mentioned in this story before (e.g. Gerald having fun with a sex toy, Damien replacing it with a certain part of his anatomy, Karril acting the matchmaker, Vryce's pangs of conscience about desiring the Hunter and so on and so forth), but as I'm lamentably short of time and this plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone, I might be forgiven for recycling some of my ideas in a different context. You can't always invent the wheel new, I suppose. All similarities to Shadowy Star's gorgeous 'The Greatest Crime', which also takes place in Karril's storage cellar shortly after Damien rescued Gerald from hell, are purely coincidental. There's no chance in hell that I could come up with something even remotely as good, but I hope you'll enjoy the ride nonetheless.

Deeply lost in thought, Damien wandered aimlessly through the streets of Jaggonath without giving a damn about where his legs were carrying him. He had left Karril's temple in order to placate his grumbling stomach, but his thoughts circling around the recent events with annoying insistence, he had soon discovered that he wasn't able to force down a single bite through his constricted throat.

Gerald had looked so frail in the heavy robe the God of Pleasure had clad him in, so drawn and defeated that it had given him a nasty shock. For the first time ever, he had allowed himself to ponder what the man's final death would mean to him on a purely personal level, and he didn't like what he had found out, didn't like it at all.

To mask his inner turmoil, he had dredged up anger, had even pretended that he wouldn't forgive Tarrant if he were God, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Not only didn't he want to kill the adept any longer, but he couldn't quite imagine a life without him, as absurd as it may sound. Gerald had grown on him over the last years, had somehow progressed from being a loathsome fiend to be wiped off the face of the planet at the soonest possible moment to a brother-in-arms first and then to a reluctant friend, a miracle all on its own, but unfortunately the development hadn't stopped at that. Not by a long shot.

Almost bumping into a numarble pillar, Vryce realized that he had returned to his starting point as if his feet had developed a will on their own. It would have been so easy to put that down to the fact that he had nowhere else to go in the entire city. As far as he knew, Ciani was still living among the rakh, and the less the Patriarch saw of him, the better for both of them. Even more important, Tarrant might need his help again. As the man was the only one possibly powerful enough to bring down a power-crazed Iezu intent on enslaving mankind, it was only natural to guard him jealously. God knew what Calesta would come up with next to eliminate his most dangerous enemy, and even if Karril's sibling granted them a brief respite, the Unnamed wasn't exactly known for his trustworthiness either.

But although he could put forth a string of perfectly logical arguments for keeping the Hunter company, Damien knew better. If a part of his anatomy was to be blamed for finding himself at the entrance of Karril's temple again, it was his fallible human heart, guiding him back to the one and only being he truly, deeply, madly cared about.

 _Has it really come to this, God?_ he thought miserably. _Am I already so corrupted by his presence just the way he foretold back in the rakhlands that I don't give a damn about his going bump in the night anymore? He's a merciless killer, cruel and sadistic beyond mortal reckoning, but the only thing I see now when looking at him is the anguish of a soul secretly longing for redemption and his striking beauty. Does that condemn me to hell in Your eyes?_

When no answer was forthcoming to his desperate question, he stifled a sigh and headed for the basement without paying any attention whatsoever to the acts of debauchery taking place in plain view all around him. Removing the terrible threat looming over Tarrant was beyond him, but maybe he could somehow at least atone for his harsh words. The one thing a man in for a renewed trip to hell if no miracle occurred surely could do without was having a torrent of abuse and remonstrances heaped upon him.

His left foot was still on the last step when he was stopped by what sounded like a heated debate. "I still don't understand why you're so upset about it," Karril's deep, booming voice rang through his subterranean lair. "The compact is broken. You don't have to fear anymore that having some fun human style could be your undoing. So why don't you just let me..."

"Have your way with me? That'll be the day! I won't make out with one of the faeborn, Karril. Not now, not ever. Period."

"That's quite a strange thing to say for somebody whose own essence is demonic, don't you think so? However, I wouldn't have expected anything else from you, so I won't consider your reaction to my proposal as an affront. But what about one of my young priestesses, Gerald? They certainly know how to please a man." The God of Pleasure chuckled mischievously. "Come to think of it, with regard to your preferences, I'd better recommend you one or two of my well-endowed male followers. Having their equipment up your shapely behind would do you good. One after the other, mind. And of course there's still the priest. He hides his feelings very well, but let me assure you that he would willingly meet your needs."

"I'd rather you left Vryce out of it. His feelings are none of your concern."

"Agreed, but the happiness of an old friend is, isn't it? I know your heart, Gerald. Deny it all the way you want to, but you cherish Damien, have been cherishing him ever since he tried to console you that night your god rejected you. At the very latest, that is. That he dragged your butt back from hell was just the icing on the cake, to use a human euphemism. You not only adore his courage, his unwavering loyalty and his sense of honour, but you also find him one hell of a hunk, no pun intended. Like Gannon, he's exactly what turns you on without fail: a big, muscular teddy bear, but aggressive enough in bed to make you come again and again and yet beg for more. Isn't that true?"

"Your lewd insinuations are disgusting, Karril! I won't listen to that kind of nonsense any longer."

"As you wish, my friend," the Iezu sighed, an unmistakable trace of resignation in his voice. "It's up to you whether you enjoy your new-found freedom for as long as you can or waste your reprieve with barricading yourself behind your damned pride and dignity. I've done everything I could to talk some sense into your stubborn head. The only thing I'd like to ask you is not to reject you new possibilities outright. If you can't bring yourself to step down from your pedestal for once and give the thing between you and Damien a chance, you might want to try this. It's a gift from me, with no strings attached."

"A gift?" Tarrant's light tenor was oozing with scepticism.

"Yes. Use it to your advantage or throw it away. It's your choice. And now lie back like a good boy and make yourself comfortable again. In case you're still hungry, there's no lack of volunteers."

His heart hammering, Vryce pricked up his ears, but he couldn't pick up much save a a low creaking of wood when the adept shifted his weight. Evidently, Karril had vanished into the ether without bothering to take the stairs, but just when he had settled for beating it as well in order to find a quiet spot where he could digest what he had just heard, everything changed. _'I've blinded him to your presence, Damien_ ', the God of Pleasure whispered in his mind, language without sound. ' _For as long as you don't address him, make a hell of a racket or step into his direct line of view, he won't know you're here. Make the best of it!'_

The warrior knight stood frozen, but when no further revelations were sprung upon him, he relaxed slightly and repeatedly clenched and unclenched his hands to bleed off some of the tension. What _he_ really didn't need on top of his misfortunes was the appearance of a ravenous demonling, spawned by his frantic thought processes.

The Neocount of Merentha had been a family man in his mortal days, had tied the knot very young and sired three children. That he seemingly hadn't been altogether adverse to having it off with a guy every now and then was astounding, to put it mildly, but not something unheard of. If rumours were to be believed, quite a few men married for convenience, just to pay secret visits to so called 'bathhouses' under the cover of darkness afterwards.

Karril's reference to Gannon in this context, the very man who had outlawed private sorcery and thus laid the foundation for Tarrant's downfall in the end, was a bit more disquieting, but Damien decided not to agonize about it. Even if king and courtier had been lovers in times long gone from living memory, it was all water under the bridge now. Or so he told himself, valiantly ignoring the spark of jealousy flaring up inside him.

What he couldn't brush off just like that was the most stunning eye-opener of the night. If the God of Pleasure wasn't completely mistaken, and Vryce harboured serious doubts that he was, Gerald felt sexually attracted to him. Adhering to his strict code of honour, the last lifeline connecting him to his lost humanity and thus keeping him out of the clutches of hell, the adept hadn't even denied it, but had only refused to elaborate on the somewhat touchy subject. Not altogether surprising with regard to his character. A man as aloof and solitary as he would presumably rather bite off his tongue than admitting to such an embarrassingly human sentiment.

But be that as it may, it remained to be seen what he was to make of this unexpected development. So much was standing between them: Gerald's unholy nature, his pleasure in the suffering of his prey and the resulting hunt, his utter disregard of moral scruples, a Iezu on the rampage, the looming loss of his own vocation. The list went on and on. Using his brains instead of his dick, it might be better to bury everything he had just overheard deep down in his heart and go back to normal, or to what could be called 'normal' in their particular case, as if nothing had happened. After all, that the former Prophet of the Law had allegedly developed a kind of crush on him didn't necessarily mean that he was even remotely inclined to indulge his yearnings.

Completely at a loss what to do, Damien tried to get clear about his further course of action, but it was to no avail. Several minutes and a nasty headache brewing later, he was still torn between making a quiet exit and pouncing on Tarrant and to hell with the consequences when a low sigh reached his ears, followed by the rustling of cloth.

Intrigued very much against his will, he tiptoed along the rough stone wall, carefully using every shadow to his advantage, but he needn't have worried. His eyes closed and his chest stirred by no breath of life, Gerald seemed to be utterly oblivious to his surroundings. If not for his right hand clutching something black and shiny, he could have very well been a corpse, something that came a bit too close to the truth for the warrior knight's liking.

Ever so carefully, he edged closer to the velvet couch, drawn to the one and only man he had ever wanted by a force stronger than fire, wind or water, but he hadn't come very far when the Hunter furrowed his brow in concentration.

Whatever he had expected hadn't prepared him for the sight of Gerald Tarrant without a stitch of clothing on his lean body. Gone was the overdecorated garment so strangely at odds with his refined tastes, revealing long, graceful limbs and flawless skin the colour of moonlight on a frozen lake. The puckered, ugly scar the Unnamed had graced him with was still marring his otherwise perfect features and very likely would continue doing so until fate caught up with him one day or the stars fell from the sky, but to Damien, he had never looked more beautiful.

All at once, the Neocount of Merentha drew a deep breath as if steeling himself for the metaphorical jump off the cliff and planted his feet firmly on the couch, his legs spread apart. When he slowly pushed whatever Karril had given him into the opening between his nether cheeks, Vryce's mouth fell open, and he couldn't help but stare in wide-eyed disbelief. In one of those seemingly endless nights aboard the Golden Glory Tarrant had told him that sex was out of bounds for him. Taking part in an act so closely connected to the world of the living or even mimicking its forms would kill him as surely as the rising dawn. But evidently, things had changed profoundly in the meantime, just as the God of Pleasure had suggested.

At first, nothing much happened. He had half expected Gerald to move the device in and out in an imitation of the sex practices he obviously preferred, but he did nothing of the sort, just lay there as motionlessly as before and let the thing inside him do whatever it was supposed to do.

 _Oh for crying out loud, just call a spade a spade, Vryce,_ the warrior knight chastised himself. _It's a vulking dildo. Or rather a kind of anal plug, if you insist on being pernickety. The son of a bitch is having what Karril called 'some fun human style', and understandably so. You've no right to spy on him in that most private moment, so why the heck don't you just piss off and grant him a moment of peace and quiet, for God's sake? You can get rid of your own boner somewhere else_.

It would have been a wise thing to do, a decent thing, but his good intentions instantly went to hell in a hand-basket when a soft moan escaped Gerald's lips and his fingernails dug deeply into the red velvet beneath him.

Vryce remembered the Iezu's warnings not to attract attention very well, but he simply couldn't help it. In a blink, he was at Tarrant's side and placed a hand on his chill abdomen, resisting the temptation to go for the man's genitals outright by a very narrow margin.

The Hunter's eyes flew open. At first, they were glazed over with pleasure, but soon enough they reacquired their usual steely glint, and Damien cringed under the scrutiny of those molten pools of silver. "I'm sorry, Gerald," he forced out between clenched teeth. "God knows what has come over me. I really shouldn't have..."

"Just so, Vryce. But as the metaphorical horse has already bolted and it's no use to shut the stable door now, your assistance would be very much appreciated."

The warrior knight blinked, completely thrown off guard. Tarrant couldn't really mean what he thought him to mean. Or could he? But all his doubts were dispersed when his brother-in-arms pulled out the plug without further ado and tossed it carelessly onto the floor.

With regard to the fact that presumably nothing had passed his digestive tract for hundreds of years, Damien gingerly picked it up and submitted it to a closer examination. It looked perfectly innocent alright, but he could feel the little bastard throbbing in his hand like a living heart. A not altogether unpleasant sensation started to spread through his entire arm, and his face split into a broad grin. So this was what had driven Tarrant to voice his pleasure just like any Tom, Dick or Harry, a sound having a rather inspiring impact on his own privates. He had no clue what kind of Working had gone into that piece of polished wood, or if the vibrations weren't just a Iezu illusion for the Neocount's benefit. Knowing Karril, he wouldn't put it beyond him.

But in the end, it didn't really matter. When Gerald beckoned him closer with an inviting nod, he forgot all about the faeborn and sex toys of whatever sort. After shrugging out of his clothes at record speed, he practically threw himself onto the couch, desire overruling a faint flutter of panic at steering into utterly uncharted waters.

He had never thought that making love to a man could be that easy. Even without the aid of a lubricant, he glided easily into the Hunter's cold heat, their bodies fitting together as if God had made them for each other. Maybe, in His infinite wisdom, He had indeed. Wasn't there an old saying from their mother planet Earth that love conquered everything, that it was greater than hope and even faith? At this particular moment in time. he believed it with all his heart.

Very much to his amazement, it took him just a few gentle thrusts to carry Gerald to the edge of orgasm. The adept didn't arch up beneath him, nor did he show any of the other symptoms so characteristic for the human plateau phase. Quite the contrary. Losing himself in the sensations, he had stopped drawing the air he didn't need anyway into his lungs altogether. No frantic pulse was hammering at the base of his slender throat, no sex flush was breathing a semblance of life over his almost translucent skin, and his face was so utterly calm that it could have belonged to one of the gorgeous numarble statues framing the entrance of Jaggonath's famous cathedral.

Bound to him by their unique bond for better or worse, Damien knew better. But although he could feel the man's arousal in his very bones, Tarrant somehow seemed to be incapable of reaching the point of no return.

Somewhat taken aback, he couldn't help but wondering whether the fault was laying with him - after all, he had never bedded a guy before - or the Hunter's undead nature was to blame for the unexpected drawback. But then a faint trace of terror that wasn't his own ghosted through his mind, and everything fell into place. "It's all right, Gerald. You needn't be afraid," he murmured, his heart aching with compassion. "Just allow it to happen. Not for me, but for yourself."

As an incentive, he gently bit down on a pale pink nipple, making the adept draw in a sharp breath. It was enough. When his internal muscles started to pulse around his cock, Tarrant didn't make a single sound, just clung to him like a drowning man, his face buried against his neck. It wasn't the most earth-shattering orgasm the warrior knight had ever witnessed, but he didn't really mind. As for him, he had only just begun to enjoy himself, and he'd be damned if he didn't do his best to help his lover to an encore.

Gritting his teeth against the desperate need to speed up, he forced himself to keep moving at a steady pace until the pressure of Gerald's long legs wrapping ever tighter around his waist became almost painful and the silver eyes staring blindly up to the ceiling closed in rapture.

The small sounds of pleasure tearing their way out of the Hunter's throat as he shuddered beneath him were delicious, better than anything he could have hoped for. Remembering what Karril had said about Tarrant's preferences and how well the man had taken to his being a little bit rough, he teasingly nibbled on one his nipples again, eliciting a pleased gasp from him. "Yes, that's it. Harder, Vryce. I'm not made of sugar," the adept urged him on, his voice a throaty rasp, and Damien was only too willing to obey.

Feeling his own climax building up inside him, he allowed his instincts free rein at long last. As he pounded into Tarrant with utter abandon, intuitively aiming for the front wall of his rectum, pale grey flecked with silver drowned in an ocean of black as lightless as the bottomless abysses of Novatlantis.

It wasn't the only change wrought in the Hunter's appearance. When he parted his lips to let out a strangled moan, a first since they had started their pleasant activities, Damien registered that his canines were transforming as well. While he was watching, they lengthened to nearly twice their normal size, became pointed, razor-sharp weapons that would have given him some food for thought under different circumstances, especially when being bared so uncomfortably close to his jugular. But as matters stood, he couldn't have cared less.

Gerald was moving with him now, bucking and writhing against him in his feverish striving for release. In stark contrast to the outward manifestations of the monster he truly was under the aristocratic veneer, nothing in his demeanour was reminiscent anymore of the aloof, inhumanly detached creature who had faced worse than death without batting so much as an eyelash more than once over the last years. His face contorted into a mask of pure ecstasy and his cock twitching between them each and every time Vryce hit his target, he seemed almost human in his helpless arousal.

Seeing him thus was such a mighty turn on for the warrior knight that he finally lost the fight against the overwhelming surge of raw lust bubbling up inside him. Just before he tumbled over the edge, Tarrant cried out his name, his entire body jerking with the force of his climax. Then the rhythmic contractions in his own abdomen pumped his seed into the tight channel milking him with nigh to unbearable intensity in a series of shuddering spurts that seemed to go on forever, and the world blanked out completely.

"God gracious, Gerald, that was the best shag I've ever had, and that is saying something. But you very nearly scared the shit out of me with your little vampire performance. Couldn't you have warned me beforehand?" Damien muttered when he had come halfway back to his senses again.

"It's good to know that I didn't fail to meet your expectations. And, even more important, that fear seems to have a - how shall I put it? - rather positive effect on your _enthusiasm_ ," the adept retorted drily. "I'll keep that in mind for the future. If there is any future for us."

When the warrior knight shot him a withering glare, Tarrant's lips curled into an amused smile. "Honestly, Vryce, why don't you just take it as a compliment? Making me lose control like that is a feat not many have managed, if at all. So kindly stop sulking and rest now. The dawn isn't far off."

Damien decided not to argue. Sighing contentedly, he snuggled closer against his lover without even registering the unearthly cold radiating from his body and went to sleep.


End file.
